


the night is long, and there is much to cry about

by takemebacktokansas



Series: Barclay Family Car Wreck and Subsequent Events [1]
Category: Adventures in Odyssey
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Car Accidents, Crying, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Men Crying, Mild Language, One Shot, Pregnancy, i was impressed that i managed to write a lot, this is quite a long fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27967310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takemebacktokansas/pseuds/takemebacktokansas
Summary: It started like this: a picnic, a family of four, an expectant mother.It continued like this: a flash of light, metal grinding on metal, fear for their lives.It ended like this: broken prayers, broken tears, and a broken man.
Relationships: (Minor), Donna Barclay/Jack Davis, George Barclay & Donna Barclay, George Barclay & Jimmy Barclay, George Barclay/Mary Barclay
Series: Barclay Family Car Wreck and Subsequent Events [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048294
Kudos: 7





	the night is long, and there is much to cry about

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so remember when I warned you guys this would be painful? Yeah, I didn't expect this to be as painful as it is but!!!! It is what it is.
> 
> There's a mild language tag because I mean, in this kind of situation, I feel like it's just…I don't know, almost called for???? It's one of my writing ticks, but I'm better about which language I choose to use and all that, so if it makes you uncomfortable, it's not pervasive.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

It started like this:

***

“George, you know how we’ve been trying to save money?” Mary tried to lean over the chair to hug him, but she forgot that she was halfway through seven months of being pregnant and the baby bump could get in the way of things. She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, and at that moment, he just wanted to turn around in his chair, pull her into his lap, and just rest.

His eyes remained on the bills laughing up at him.

So at the prospect of saving money and getting out of the house for just a little bit, he reluctantly stood up, grabbed his coat, and followed his wife to the car, where Jimmy leaned against it in the fashion of James Bond and where Donna immediately hopped away from the trunk of the car as if it were set on fire.

Odd, perhaps, but he was tired and maybe he was just seeing things.

Mary insisted on driving, and he knew that it would be a bad idea because that baby bump got in the way of everything, as much as he loved the little life growing inside. Mary would have to readjust the seat, and even then, she would not be able to see or drive well. He tried to take the keys, but she snatched them away, stood on her tiptoes, and gave him a peck on the cheek before pointing him to the passenger side of the car.

***

It continued like this.

***

George liked sandwiches and hot dogs and picnics most of the time, but most of the time, he was not the oldest person in his class who had to write an essay, pay bills, work odd jobs, take care of a pregnant wife and two kids, and find a way to buy dog food for the dog that they couldn’t afford but had anyway. Most of the time – the  _ pre-firing, _ as he liked to call it – he had the time for these things and looked forward to them. He initiated picnics and sandwiches and hot dogs. He would be the one to bring along the football to throw with Jimmy, he would be the one to lay on the picnic blanket next to his wife, he would be the one to yell at Donna if she looked at a boy too long, especially if that boy was way too old for her.

But that was the before, and this was the now.

Now, he picked at his sandwich, his absolute favorite sandwich, and contemplated his essay. He thought about what this picnic would do to his grades, wondered if this would force him to remediate for a year or force him out of seminary entirely.

Jimmy cleared his throat. “Hey, Dad, let’s toss the football around!”

George glanced up, at his son first, then the clouds brooding in the sky, and shrugged. “Eh, I’m not in the mood, Jimmy. You go ahead.”

Jimmy clutched the football in both hands and furrowed his brow. “You want me to toss the football around by myself?”

“I do!” Donna said, leaning forward to rest on her elbows. She popped a grape into her mouth and grinned.

Jimmy stuck his tongue out at her. “I’ll just throw it at your face, then, see how Jack Davis likes  _ that  _ –”

Mary looked to George for help, but when he did nothing to intervene, she sighed heavily and quirked an eyebrow. Both Jimmy and Donna knew when a fight was lost, and it was always lost when the pregnant woman threatened to get angry.

Jimmy cleared his throat again. “I guess, uh, I’ll throw…the football around by myself. Find a tree or something, I dunno.” He started off in the direction of the trees.

Once he was out of earshot, Mary turned on George. “What is the matter with you?”

He held up his hands in defense. “Look, I appreciate what you guys have done, but this really wasn’t the time, Mary. I have a big essay to finish and bills to pay.”

“Those will still be there  _ later. _ We’re your family  _ now.” _ She shuffled closer to him and rested her hands on his knees. “George, I’m not going to be pregnant forever. Donna’s close to getting her driver’s license, and Jimmy is growing up faster than you’ll expect. How many times have you talked to the baby? How many times have you felt for its kick?”

Donna pressed her lips together. “I think I’m going to go help Jimmy throw the football around.”

Mary waved a hand. “Go, Donna.”

“Stay, Donna,” he said at the same time.

Donna winced. “I’m listening to scary pregnant lady, and this is not a discussion I want to be privy to. Hey, Jimmy, wait up!”

George swallowed. “Mary, that’s not fair. You know –”

“It’s been hard, yes. I understand. But do you realize how hard this is for your kids, for me? Do you realize how disheartening it is that my own husband has no time to even say hello to the child he helped make? That you have done less than the bare minimum this time around?”

His head snapped up, and his eyes flashed. “Mary, that’s not fair.” His voice shook, and it wasn’t fair.

Mary moved like she wanted to touch his cheek, like she wanted to reach for his hands, but she leaned back, leaned away from him, and twisted her hair into a bun. “George, you were always there for my other pregnancies. You were there every step of the way, talking to my stomach, finding books to read, coming up with clever ways for Jimmy and Donna to listen to music before they were even born. You were there for the first months of our third pregnancy, and now, during our fourth, you are nowhere to be found!” Tears sprang into her eyes, and he knew, he  _ knew _ he was the source of those tears. “I need you. I’m scared with this pregnancy. We lost our last baby, and now I’m forty years old, and I could lose this baby, too. I need you, and you won’t –” she gestured vaguely,  _ “let _ me need you!”

“I can’t do this, Mary.” He picked up the sandwich crust and picked part of it off. “I can’t. I’m trying to do what I think God wants, and maybe I’m not managing my time well – I can admit to that – but don’t accuse me of not being there for this baby. I will always be there for our children. You know that.”

She smiled sadly. “Do I?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I want to go home. Let’s just go home. We can think and talk and pray, but not here and not now, okay?”

Mary began packing up the food. “Fine by me. Except you go call the kids, it’ll be the most you’ve interacted with them since starting seminary.”

He paused momentarily, debating if it was worth continuing the fight, if it was worth it to call out her low blow, but he needed to get home now and finish that essay now, and arguing with her would not get them home any sooner. So he cleared his throat, stood up, and strolled over to the grove of trees, where Jimmy was showing Donna how to throw a football correctly and Donna was getting progressively better at actually throwing it.

Jimmy saw him first and stopped throwing the football, and Donna followed his line of vision.

“Come on, kids,” George said, jerking his head to the picnic that Mary was tearfully packing up. “It’s time to go home.”

On the way back, he grabbed the keys. “I’ll drive,” he said, and he thought about saying something nice, thought about bridging the divide that had come between them, but what really tumbled out of his mouth was, “I want to make sure that we actually  _ get _ to our destination.”

***

In all of his life, George knew when God was calling him somewhere.

He knew when God called him to become a Christian in the first place, and he knew when God called him to a better life than the level above mediocrity, above the level where he liked to live, lukewarm in his faith, with all the comforts of the world and with the comforts of Christ. He knew when God told him that Mary was the woman he would end up marrying. He knew when God called him to college and to his career, and even when he was called into the ministry, he knew.

But maybe he didn’t.

It just didn’t make sense that God called him to be a family man, but now, God was the one telling him to put his family behind him, to focus on his studies and the menial tasks of the everyday American. It didn’t make sense that his family, who followed God and did everything He asked of them, was the one hurting for his decisions. It didn’t make sense that George had to choose between seminary and his family – not God and his family, mind you, although Whit and Tom and Jack might say otherwise – but  _ school _ and his family. George was willing to drop everything and become a missionary, willing to do anything to spread the word of God, but this was where he took pause, this was when he questioned the path he chose to follow.

Why would God tear his family apart?

Why would God disallow him from being able to be a father, especially when it was certainly his wife’s last pregnancy and there might be complications?

He wanted to close his eyes, but he was driving, so he couldn’t. But he prayed. By God, he prayed.

_ Look, God. Here’s the deal: You were the one to tell me to do this. You were the one to tell me to get married, and You were the one to tell me to have kids. You were also the one to tell me to go into the ministry, and look what You have done to my family. We are breaking apart. I haven’t been able to be there for my wife during her pregnancy because I’m too busy trying to get by in seminary and pay the bills. I haven’t been able to talk to my son beyond, what? Four conversations that held any sort of meaning whatsoever? I haven’t been able to warn Donna about that one guy she has a crush on, or encourage her walk  _ **_with You_ ** _ or help her with her homework. I get it, but at what point were You going to tell me that I would have to give up my family for this? Could I not have just become a missionary? Did I have to go to seminary? _

Next to him, Mary pressed her lips together and rubbed her belly. It was swollen now, with the baby bump. They still didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl. George hadn’t been able to go to any of her OBGYN appointments; at least, not since the first one. She was getting by in this pregnancy by herself and with the help of their children.

Behind Mary, in the glance into the rearview mirror, Donna had her elbow propped on the armrest, and she picked at her lips while staring out the window. She was learning to drive now, but when Mary couldn’t, Connie or Jack Davis would. When they couldn’t, Jason Whittaker would. George didn’t even know how well Donna could drive, or if it would be best just to have everyone triple buckle, grab a Bible, and mutter a prayer every time they got in a car with Donna behind the wheel.

Next to Donna, Jimmy sat and tossed the football into the air, slouching into the seat. His voice had changed almost completely now – it was deeper, and it rarely cracked anymore, though it might if he were tired or had been talking too long. The last meaningful conversation George had with Jimmy was about future careers, but Jimmy hadn’t spoken to him anymore about it, and George had no idea if that meant Jimmy had figured it out or if he had given up.

George closed his eyes, just for a second.

_ God, I can’t do what You’re asking of me. _

He didn’t see the car coming straight at them.

***

It was a flash of light.

In all the stories of these car wreck survivors, they said how everything slowed down for them, how they saw everything happen and were powerless to stop it.

That didn’t happen with George.

He didn’t see anything – he heard the sound of metal crunching, of glass shattering, of Mary crying out, swearing, a prayer. He didn’t see anything except the car coming, and maybe it was because he closed his eyes, maybe it was because he was scared, or maybe it was because God spared him.

Either way, it was only after the cars had stopped moving that he looked around to assess the damage.

Mary groaned.

He licked his lips and lurched forward, stopped only by a throbbing pain in his shoulder. He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned forward. “Mary?” he said, cupping her cheek with his hand.

Her eyelids fluttered.

“Mary, are you alright?”

“George, the baby –” she swallowed heavily. “Is the baby okay?”

George dropped his hand to Mary’s stomach, felt around for a small kick, hoping, praying that he could detect a sign of life in there. “Come on, little one, it’s your dad. Let me know you’re okay, alright? Just one little kick.” His breath caught in his throat.  _ I can’t feel the baby moving. _

Normally, it was fine when the baby didn’t always move around. They just figured the baby was sleeping or something, but now, when he needed that little kid to move around in there, the baby was silent. It was terrifying.

He couldn’t dwell on it.

George twisted in his seat. “Donna? Jimmy? Are you both okay?”

Donna’s eyes were wide, but she looked okay. No cuts, no bruises, no broken bones. “Dad, what just happened?”

“Something that wasn’t supposed to happen. Are you okay? Can you move?”

Donna nodded. “I can, but Jimmy’s not moving at all.”

_ Oh, God, please don’t let it be like the time he fell from WonderWorld. God, let him be okay, don’t let me lose him, don’t let me lose him. _

“Donna,” he said, and he was struck by how calm his voice was, how clear it sounded. “I want you to listen to me. Unbuckle yourself and feel for a pulse on Jimmy’s neck.”

Donna did as he said, pressing two fingers to the artery underneath Jimmy’s jaw. “I can feel something. It’s a little fast, but I feel a pulse.”

_ Thank God. _ George breathed out a quiet sigh of relief, hand still on Mary’s stomach, still praying for his unborn child to make some kind of movement. “Okay, now I want you to see if you can get out of the car and check on the other driver. Do the same thing, then come back and tell me if you found a pulse.”

Donna scooted back to her seat, shoved open the door, and ran around the front of the car.

With his eyes on her, George turned part of his attention back to Mary. “Do you feel any pain in your stomach?”

Mary shook her head. “No, it– it feels fine, I think everything’s fine.” She reached for his hand. “George, I don’t like this.”

“I know. I’m going to get you and Jimmy out of the car soon and go get help.”

Donna poked her head back inside, tear tracks staining her cheeks. “Dad, that other driver doesn’t have a pulse. I think he’s dead.”

“Do you know where we are?”

She nodded. “I think so.”

“Run as fast as you can and go find the nearest pay phone and call 911.”

“Don’t I need money for that?”

“No, they can’t charge for emergency calls and this is what most people would define as an emergency. Tell them there were five people involved in a crash: one pregnant woman, one victim unconscious, another presumably dead.  _ Hurry.” _

“George, are you sure it’s best to –”

He twisted out of his seat and crawled into the backseat, careful to avoid Jimmy. “Adrenaline can do a lot of things, but I think Donna needs to get away from the scene, just for a little bit. I need to get you and Jimmy out of here and check you guys out as best I can.”

Mary reached behind her and grabbed his wrist, locking him in place until he moved to see her. “Jimmy comes first,” she whispered. Tears welled up in her eyes. “You get Jimmy out of here first.”

“But you– the baby –”

“Listen to me, George, you get our son out of here first. Do you hear me?”

He nodded. “I’m going to get Jimmy out of the car. There’s some grass nearby, he should be okay.”

Mary nodded, let out a sigh of relief, and put her head against the headrest. “Good. That’s good.”

George licked his lips and lifted his hand to check that his son was still breathing, that there was a pulse throbbing underneath his skin, that there was still life somewhere inside him. Blood trickled down the left side of Jimmy’s face, and a bead of blood dripped from his jaw onto his favorite shirt.

Jimmy got the worst of it in the accident, and George was scared to move him.

He might have a broken neck, and if George moved him, he could move the neck in such a way that he would die and George didn’t want that kind of responsibility, but he didn’t want to tell Mary anything.

George pressed two fingers to the pulse point underneath Jimmy’s jaw and prayed.

_ Look, I know I don’t deserve anything. But God, I am begging You, let me be able to get him out of here. Don’t let him have a broken neck. I can’t be the one responsible for his death. _

The pulse came through, thready and erratic, but noticeable, and that was enough to reassure George. He took a shaky breath, reached to unbuckle Jimmy from his seatbelt, and carefully maneuvered him out of the car, taking care not to move his head by holding his head and neck the same way he used to when Jimmy was just a baby.

George’s heart pounded in his chest, and he backed out of the car, slowly stepping back into the grassy knoll beside the car. Jimmy’s chest still rose and fell, even if a bit shallowly, and George carefully laid him in the grass.

“Okay, Jimmy, I need you to stay with me. I’ve got to get your mom and your little sibling out of the car, and then I’ll take care of you, I promise. Donna’s on her way to get help.”

_ Donna. _

George’s head snapped up, his hand on Jimmy’s chest. There was a payphone about a mile down the road, the red standing out like a sore thumb amidst the rest of the green grass. He couldn’t see far enough to tell if Donna had made it to the phone or not, but he prayed she had. She had to get to the phone, he didn’t know how Jimmy or the baby would make it without Donna being there already.

He shook himself out of his stupor and stood to get Mary out of the car. “Okay, Mary, Jimmy’s still breathing.” He winced as he grabbed the door handle, only now noticing the throbbing pain in his right hand and how it shook more than his other hand. “He’s unconscious. I think he hit his head really hard when the crash happened.”

Mary said nothing.

His entire body tensed. “Mary?”

She was still quiet.

The pain was gone again as George wrenched open the door and stuck his head inside. Mary’s eyes were closed, her chin touching her chest, and her hand limp on the seat.

“Oh, no, Mary, no, you don’t get to do this. We have a baby to worry about, you don’t get to do this.” He unbuckled her quickly, taking less care than he did with Jimmy, and lifted her into his arms. “Mary, come on, stay with me, please.”

She looked perfectly fine, like she was sleeping. No blood stained her face, she had no bruises, no cuts. Everything was as it should be, but nothing was as it should be.

His chin trembled, and once he placed her on the grass, he cupped her face gently in his hands.  _ “Mary,” _ he choked out.

He waited for an answer, and no answer came.

“God, what the  _ hell?” _ he shouted up at the sky. “What in the ever-living  _ hell? _ Did you call me to ministry just to rip away my family? My son, my wife, my unborn child? What, are you going to take Donna too and leave me all alone to navigate this damn life by myself?”

He waited for an answer, and no answer came.

George stood up and ran to the payphone. Mary was unconscious without reason. She was pregnant.

And George needed to be sure Donna was alright.

***

“Donna!” He reached the phone booth, barely breathing heavily, and ripped open the door. The phone nearly fell from her hands, and he wanted to pull her into his arms, pull her into a bone-crushing hug that would result in the two of them sobbing.

“Just a minute, please.” She covered the receiver. “Dad, what’s the matter?”

He choked past the knot in his throat. “Your mother is unconscious. I don’t know why, if she’s just fainted, or if–”  _ God, don’t let anything be wrong with the baby. At least let Mary make it long enough for us to get her to a hospital and have an emergency c-section. Give me something, some hope. _

“Dad.” Donna swallowed heavily, her eyes welling up with tears. Her body tensed. “What’s wrong with Mom?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t know if the baby’s okay, either.”

The phone fell from her hands, and she collapsed in her father’s arms.

George couldn’t hold the tears back any longer, and he wept with her.

***

He promised.

As George held Donna, unable to hear the operator repeatedly beg for their location, he remembered the promise he made to Mary some twenty years ago.

_ “I’ll protect you with everything I have in every situation,” he said to her on their first night as a married couple. _

_ “And I,” she said, kissing the tip of his nose, “will protect you with everything I have in every situation.” _

_ He locked hands with her, kissing her absolutely freezing fingers. “Until death do us part.” _

_ She smiled at him. “Until death do us part.” _

He promised to protect his children, and he hadn’t even done that much. He promised to protect his family, and he had failed.

He smoothed Donna’s hair as she sobbed into his shirt, but he realized that he could still do something for his family, that he could still reach for the phone and tell the operator where they were and ask how long it would take.

He lifted the dangling phone to his ear and heard nothing on the other end.

Donna sniffled and stepped back.

George slammed the phone down on the receiver. “I don’t know how the hell God wants me to help my own family if He won’t let me help them,” he growled.

“Daddy?”

George’s shoulders heaved. “I promised I would protect you guys, I promised that I would always be there, and I have failed. Look at me, Donna. When was the last time I was there for you, or the last time I did anything to help you or your mom or your brother? How have I been –” he choked on a sob “– so  _ selfish? _ How could God be?”

“Dad, I want to see Mom.”

He nodded and pushed open the door to the phone booth, pulling her into his side so he could reassure himself that at least his daughter was safe, at least his daughter was alive and conscious.

He didn’t want to see what was waiting for them back at the grassy knoll, didn’t want to see if Mary had never woken up, if Jimmy had stopped breathing.

Donna gripped his hand, and he leaned his weight into her.

_ It shouldn’t be this way, _ he thought.  _ I should be the one carrying her when she can’t stand on her own. _

***

There was a new car at the wreckage that hadn’t been there. It was an old beat-up, washed-out yellow truck, and the driver was perfectly okay. So was the truck.

The driver rounded the first car in the wreck, and George nearly collapsed on his knees when he saw Tom.

“Tom, thank God.”

Tom’s eyebrows knit together. “George? Donna? What’s the matter?”

“There was a wreck,” George said. “It was my fault, I wasn’t looking at the road, and…Jimmy and Mary…”

Donna’s bottom lip trembled. “The ambulance doesn’t know where we are.”

Tom hurried to George’s car and saw Mary and Jimmy lying peacefully on the grass. “Dear God, are they –”

“Last time I checked, no. They were alive, but Mary’s pregnant, and I–” he steeled himself. “I don’t know if the baby is okay.”

“George, Donna, get them into my truck. I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

Donna ran to get in the truck, and George cradled Jimmy to his chest. “Is there enough room –”

Tom shook his head and lifted Mary into his arms. “Probably not. Do you mind staying in the bed with them? It’ll be a windy ride, but it’s all we can do for the moment.”

Before they moved a step further, George stared Tom in the eyes. “Just get my family and me to a hospital as soon as physically possible.”

***

With Jimmy’s head cradled in his lap and Mary lying too peacefully beside him, George reached the end of himself and he prayed.

_ God, I don’t know what to pray. I don’t know what to do, what to say. I’m at a loss for words, and right now, I know that I should be completely fine with whatever You decide, but I can’t be. I want my son and my wife and my unborn child to live. I want them to stay with me. I want to grow old with Mary, to be 80 or 90 years old, watching our grandkids and great-grandkids run around our home. I want to watch Jimmy grow up into the fine young man I know he can be. _

_ God, I am at the end of myself, and I am begging You to save my family. I am begging You to heal them. You’ve raised people from the dead before, so what is so hard or wrong about saving my family? _

_ Save them. _

His fingers curled into Jimmy’s hair. Jimmy’s face looked paler and his breaths were more shallow than they had been before. George was too scared to check his pulse.

_ Save them. _

Tom sped down the road, going nearly 90 miles an hour, laying on the horn the entire time. The horn drowned out George’s tears.

_ God, save them. _

With his other hand, George checked Mary’s stomach. He waited a breath, a beat, and he felt something.

He felt a kick.

_ I’ll do whatever You want me to do, I’ll go into the ministry, I won’t complain anymore, just save them. _

He had hope.

_ God, I’ll take their place. I’ll do anything. Please, just save them. _

**Trust Me,** came the answer.

***

Tom skidded into the parking lot, causing George to slam his head against the back of the truck. Donna hopped out of the passenger side and sprinted inside, calling for a doctor. George carefully moved Jimmy’s head out of his lap and waited for Tom to pop down the latch to the bed of the truck.

Doctors came and took his family away from him. He remembered trying to say something about Mary’s condition, about how she was forty years old and seven months pregnant, and he remembered fighting against the doctors who tried to take his son away.

He remembered Donna coming to his side and checking the back of his head and asking for a doctor. He remembered trying to refuse, and he remembered Donna’s hand on his shoulder and her trying to lean into him for a hug.

He remembered crying.

And he remembered begging God to let him take Jimmy’s place.

***

They were told that both Jimmy and Mary were taken into the operating room. In Mary’s case, it was because they were going to perform an emergency c-section, just in case she didn’t recover. He wasn’t allowed back there, given the conditions, but the doctor would come for him as soon as the baby was born.

In Jimmy’s case, it was because the damage was so extensive that surgery was his only hope.

George left Donna for a few seconds to call his professors and explain the situation and how he would definitely not be getting that essay in on time. His professors told him not to worry about it, that he would be exempt from their assignments and that he should be with his family. After he hung up, he bought a few snacks from the vending machine and returned to the hard plastic chairs he and Donna were forced to sit in.

“Here,” he said, passing her a Hershey bar. “You should eat something.”

She took it from his hands but didn’t open it. “I’m not hungry.”

“Donna, please eat something. Just…it’ll give me some sense of peace if I know that you’re at least eating something.”

She twisted her lips but peeled open the wrapper. “Only if you eat something, too.”

He held up a Snickers bar. “I figured you’d say something like that.”

Donna broke off one square at a time and dropped it in her mouth. “Do you think the baby will be okay?”

He took a breath, not remotely hungry, but eating the Snickers bar just to occupy his mind with something else. “I pray the baby will be okay. I felt it kick on the way here, but it’s bound to have health complications if it’s born this early.”

Donna played with the corner square. “Do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl?”

George smiled painfully and cupped the back of Donna’s head. “I don’t know, but your mother and I haven’t decided on names.”

“Wh- what about Elizabeth if it’s a girl? We could call her Liz or Lizzie or Beth.” Donna shrugged. “I dunno, it’s just a thought.”

“Don’t you have a list of baby names you really like?”

She ducked her head and smiled. “Well, yeah, but those are for  _ my _ future kids, not for my little brother or sister.”

George chuckled. “I’m kidding, Donna. Elizabeth is a wonderful name.” He crumpled the Snickers wrapper. “It’s your mom’s middle name, so I’m even more fond of it.”

“You didn’t give me the name Elizabeth.”

“It didn’t fit you.” He kissed her head. “You were a Donna Renae from the moment you were born, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Donna fiddled with the edge of her shirt. “And, um, Dad? After the baby is born, can I call Jack? I want to talk to him.”

George thought about making a joke. He thought about getting the wrong Jack, but he also knew what it was like to be going through something hard and you just needed to call the person you loved. He knew what it was like, and it was the reason he ended up marrying Mary in the first place: when his mother was in the hospital with cancer, before they were in a committed relationship, Mary was the one who dropped everything and sat by his side through every second. She learned how to cook so George and his family could get by while his mom was getting treatment. When his mom passed away, Mary was the one who held George until he ran out of tears to cry, and even when he was out of tears, she continued to hold him.

Who was George to take that away from Donna, even if it was jokingly?

He nodded. “Of course. You can call him right now, if you want.”

Donna lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “I don’t want to miss anything if the baby is born.”

“Well, this is our first c-section, I don’t know how long it’s supposed to take.” Something told him that it was supposed to be a short operation, that it shouldn’t have taken this long, and he didn’t know if it had to do with the baby or with Mary, and all he hoped for was for his family to be safe.

He didn’t think it was an unreasonable request.

Donna sighed. “I think– I think I’m going to go call Jack now.”

George dug into his pocket and passed her a dollar. “Tell him I said hello.”

***

Jack came by, and he stayed at the hospital with them.

Donna alternated between resting her head on her father’s shoulder or on Jack’s shoulder. Jack turned his hand palm-side up, and Donna interlaced her fingers with his.

He was quiet because he needed to be, and Donna was quiet because she could not move past the grief to find words.

James Barclay was dead.

George had been able to go into his room after the doctors told him there was nothing that could be done, and he spent that time running his fingers through his son’s hair, resting his head on Jimmy’s chest, and begging God to change His verdict.

“You were the best son I could ever have asked for,” George whispered, choking on his tears. “And I love you so much, Jimmy. You were my pride and joy. And Donna is, too, so if you wake up or if you heard me, don’t think you were my favorite kid. I love you and Donna so much, and I just…” He choked on his sob and pressed his forehead to Jimmy’s sternum. “I should have tossed the football around with you this afternoon. I should have spent time with you. And I’m so, so sorry I didn’t, son. If I could go back in time, I would play football with you. Even if I threw out my back and even if I failed that essay, I would toss around the football with you and tackle you as your mom and sister watched.”

Jimmy’s heartbeats were slowing down.

“Hey, uh, when–” George closed his eyes, and his tears fell onto the covers on Jimmy’s bed, “– when you get to heaven, tell your first younger sibling that I love them. And tell everyone I said hello.”

He turned his face to the ceiling. “Okay, God.” He swallowed, and it felt like someone had shoved a boulder into his throat. His shoulders shook with the oncoming sobs. “You can take him now.”

Jimmy’s heart monitor started screeching, and George bent over his son’s body, and he wept.

***

On what was otherwise the absolute worst day of George Barclay’s life, one of the doctors stepped into the waiting room. “George Barclay?”

George felt like every muscle in his body was lead as he stepped forward and followed the doctor inside the hall.

“We just delivered your son. He’s in the NICU out of an abundance of caution. Right now, he seems healthy.”   
  


_ A son. _

George licked his lips. “Um, how’s my wife?”

“She has a blood clot in her brain, and it’s likely that she had a seizure at some point after the accident. We put her in a medically induced coma, and we hope it will do something to help her, but we can’t say for sure.”

_ A son. _

_ I have another son. _

He wiped his face with his left hand. “When will you know how she’s doing?”

“Don’t know. It could be hours, it could be days, or it could be weeks.”

_ God took away my first son and gave me another one. _

_ What kind of sick, twisted game is that? _

“So it would be better to name my son within the day?”

“I would think so. Do you want to see him?”

He lost his first son today, but he loved his second son with everything he had. He followed the doctor to the NICU and cried when he saw his newborn son, the absolute smallest baby he had ever seen in his life, kicking and moving around. Their eyes locked together, and George choked on a sob when he realized how much his son looked like Mary.

“How long until he’s out of the NICU?”

“He looks really healthy for now, so I’d say no more than a couple of days. You’ll get to hold your son soon.”

_ God, _ George prayed,  _ please don’t take this son away from me. _

**I won’t, my child,** and George trusted the answer.

***

Donna played with Jack’s fingers. “We should name him after Jimmy somehow. Like, as a middle name.”

George had been thinking about it, and he hadn’t known if he would be able to look at his other son without seeing Jimmy in there somewhere. It would be unfair to both of them, he knew, but after everything that happened, he knew he couldn’t let Jimmy go without him having a namesake.

“Well, your other little brother just…I don’t know, he doesn’t fit any of the names your mother and I were talking about.” He chuckled, just a little bit. “Donna, he looks exactly like your mother.”

“Why not two namesakes?” Jack cleared his throat and lifted his head. Donna twisted her neck to look up at him.

George scratched his jaw. “How do you mean?”

“Why not give your new son the male equivalent of Mrs. Barclay’s name? Like Mark or Mario or something?”

“I am not naming any child of mine Mario.”

Donna hummed. “Mark’s not a bad name.”

“But Mark Barclay doesn’t roll off the tongue very easily. Combine it with James, and it just sounds off somehow.”

Jack shrugged with his left shoulder. “What’s Mrs. Barclay’s middle name? You could do the male equivalent of that.”

George ran his thumb over his bottom lip and trained his eyes on the empty seats across from him. “Elliot James Barclay,” he said slowly. “How do you like it, Donna?”

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I think it’s perfect, Dad.”

***

“Mary, we have another boy. Another son.” He held her right hand in both of his, and it felt wrong. It was wrong. She should be squeezing his hand, and even if she had to be here in the hospital, she should be awake, she should be moving her head to look at him and remark on how wonderful it was that they had another son.

But that wouldn’t be happening any time soon.

George blinked back his tears and squeezed her hand tighter. “He’s a beautiful little boy, Mary. You’d be proud. He’s so tiny, but he’s wonderful. I–” he sniffled and pulled away one hand to wipe his nose with his sleeve. “I named him Elliot James. I know neither of those names were on our list, but…but after Jimmy died, I just…I don’t know, it just fits little Elliot, you know?”

He scooted the chair closer to Mary’s bed, and it screeched against the floor.

“I’m so sorry about everything, Mary. If I hadn’t– if I’d been a better father, a better husband, if I’d just had the picnic with you guys and tossed the football around, if I’d just let you guys love me, this wouldn’t have happened. Jimmy would still be alive, and you wouldn’t be here, and I would have been able to enjoy your last two months of pregnancy before we welcomed our little boy into the world. It shouldn’t have been like this, and I am so, so sorry.”

He pressed his forehead to her hand.

“Forgive me, Mary. Forgive me for everything.”

***

When he was kicked out of Mary’s room for the night, he went back into the waiting room to find Donna asleep on Jack’s shoulder. Jack looked like he was fighting sleep himself, so George went to call Tom Riley and ask for some blankets and a pillow for the kids.

While he waited, he prayed, but he didn’t feel like God was listening, nor did he feel like God really cared.

All he could do was think about Jimmy and how his son had been taken away from him at such a young age. He remembered the day Jimmy was born, when he came out screaming at the top of his lungs, how he was so small with curious green eyes like Mary’s. He remembered Donna touching Jimmy’s head and kissing her little brother’s cheek and doting on him as only a toddler could. He remembered holding Jimmy to his chest, small and loud and one of the most wonderful things to ever happen to him. He remembered when Jimmy ran away, that heart-stopping fear, and he remembered that same heart-stopping fear when Jimmy fell from Wonderworld and hit his head, and they had no idea if he would survive.

_ Maybe Jimmy was never meant to make it into adulthood. Maybe God just…gave me some more time with him. Maybe Mary and I were always meant to outlive our oldest son. _

There were too many “maybe”s and George liked none of them.

Tom came in about fifteen minutes later with soft, fluffy blankets and a couple of pillows, and George gently draped one of the blankets over Donna.

She woke up when she felt the blanket on top of her. “Is Mom okay?”

Jack took the pillow from Tom and placed it behind his head, expecting that Donna would go back to sleep on his shoulder.

George kissed Donna’s head and fell into the seat beside her. Donna tried to move to give him her blanket, but Tom gently shushed her and told her he’d take care of it.

“We don’t know yet, Donna. I pray she’ll be okay.”

***

Dr. Hexing stepped out into the waiting room and bent in front of George. “She’s still unconscious, but things are looking up.”

George thanked him for the hope and fell back asleep.

***

“She’s getting worse. We tried everything we know to do, and none of it’s working. I’d recommend saying your goodbyes.”

***

“We were supposed to grow old together, Mary. We were supposed to be wrinkly and scraggly and sagging and grumpy, and we were supposed to still love each other even in our old age.” He kissed her forehead. “I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, Mary. I wanted that, more than anything.”

He knew his vows. He knew that their promise to each other was that only death could separate them, but it wasn’t supposed to be this way. He was supposed to die first in their old age, after living a long and happy life with the love of his life by his side. He was supposed to spend sixty or seventy years with Mary, not some twenty years with her. It wasn’t enough.

But it was all God would give him.

George kissed her one last time. “I love you,” he whispered. “Donna will be in soon. Don’t leave until she can say goodbye, alright?”

***

Jason picked at the dirt underneath his fingernails. “My uncle is a pastor. I can call him and ask if he’d be willing to do the funeral, considering your pastor…”

Donna sobbed into George’s shoulder, and he held her tighter. “That’d be great, Jason, thank you.”

***

Jack Davis sat with the family at the funeral, next to Donna. He wore a black suit and tie, and he cried the entire time, although George saw how much he tried to be strong for Donna, how much he was willing to be there for her.

George held little Elliot James to his chest and cried at the thought that Mary never got to meet her youngest child.

***

They stood in the cold, dreary day as Jimmy’s and Mary’s caskets were lowered into the ground.

“We’re here to celebrate the lives of Mary Elizabeth Barclay and James David Barclay. May they rest in peace.”

***

This is how it ended.

**Author's Note:**

> Like it, love it, hate it? Leave a comment below or go to my tumblr, @ takemebackto-kansas, and tell me what you think!


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